


Sink With Me

by breakfastbeebo



Series: Ryden One-shots [12]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Split, References to Depression, Reunion, four years later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9586727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakfastbeebo/pseuds/breakfastbeebo
Summary: Brendon hadn't heard anything from Ryan in four years. Not a word. He knew after a few months he should have given up, stopped waiting and hoping for Ryan to ever come back- or apologize. Brendon never could though, he held tight to every last memory he had and never let them slip away. They were all fading memories, they weren't meant to be revived. They weren't meant to be real.Ryan wasn't meant to come back.





	1. Come Back Around

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I had for a little while blended with a prompt by @ililydun on Tumblr who suggested something based off the Tracy Chapman song 'Baby Can I Hold You Tonight'. I'm so happy this idea came back around and I could post it! Hope you enjoy it!

Brendon had forced all those unspeakable days far behind him- nearly four years of them. Every wasted moment he spent waiting for the fruitful call of nothingness was being reclaimed. Every thought he ever had about the ‘what if’s became ‘so what’s. Brendon swallowed his pride, and then he spit it in His face. Those days were meant to be left behind him, slowly collecting dust and memories losing sharpness. But suddenly, they were being promised in his future.

He was in the middle chair between Dallon and Spencer- both _uselessly_ quiet- staring over the long, rectangular table at the label executives Brendon wrongly considered to be his friends- or at least people who had his interests in mind. Scott was directly across from Brendon, leaning back in his chair, either out of nonchalance or uneasiness, and the label’s visionary, Loraine, sat on his right. She was rustling through notes and papers. She was finding the contract. Brendon continued to look around between the faces near him, waiting for someone to start laughing; he seemed to be the only one.

“Listen, Bren,” Scott situated himself in his chair again, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Haven’t stopped.” He rebutted, drumming his fingers on the table shortly. “Waiting for someone to make fucking sense.” Scott leaned back slowly. “We have a single coming out _this_ Monday. This album doesn’t need any gimmicky hype.”

“It’s not for you guys, though.” Loraine clarified, letting her hands rest on the papers. “It’s for _them_.”

“And?” Brendon was still waiting. Dallon looked at him with an even expression, his eyebrows raised but his face somehow perfectly still and unamused. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, as you know, a little while ago, their label had some minor complications-”

“They were dropped.” Loraine cut Scott off with the term he had been sugar coating the entire meeting. Brendon thanked her with a genuine smile.

“Yes, and we have decided, recently, to pick them up.” Scott finished, folding his hands and placing them back on the table, trying to take his place as the _executive_ at the table.

“Pick them up out of the trash? What-What does that mean?” Brendon asked, gesturing outward.

“C’mon, Brendon.” Dallon said, lowering his eyebrows but not his gaze. “You know what that means.”

“So we are under the same label. I understand that much. What I don’t understand is _why_ they think it’s a great idea to put two groups of people that haven’t spoken in about _four years_ together for some fucking brilliant reunion stunt.” Dallon blinked and also had no answer for him. “Anyone?”

“All we’re asking for is _one show_ , in the Forum, middle of August- celebrate the end of summer.” How apropos.

“I mean, it’s _one_ night.” Spencer countered. Brendon turned to glare at him but found that he already beat him to it. Brendon opened his mouth but Spencer acted first. “He’s my friend too, Brendon.”

Too. What an insulting word _casually_ sprinkled into the sentence, making Brendon look like the petulant child. What a small word to belittle the way his insides had been pulling and tearing themselves up, all for the pleasure of someone that probably forgot he was even alive, Brendon begging to be in his light again but shuddering in his shadow. Brendon pretended Spencer didn’t say it and was speaking of his own interests; it allowed him to nod and let them win. He was doing it for Spencer. All for him. Brendon had no say, what could he do?

Scott cleared his throat expectantly. “Have we reached an agreement?”

Brendon looked away from Spencer and let him answer, committing them to the one show event. The limitations and stipulations were rattled off in Loraine’s typical polite, even voice, all of them flying past Brendon and piling up in the back of his mind where he’d get to them later, once his body thawed from his shock. He could feel the tips of his fingers tingling and going numb again; they were still only on the first page. Brendon drummed his fingers on the table again as he listened, nodding along whenever Loraine’s tone changed, but not taking in any word she uttered.

“When do rehearsals start?” Dallon asked, his professionalism rearing its stubborn head yet again. Brendon turned to look at him, like he cared.

“End of next week.” Scott replied knowledgeably. “But actually, the space should be free until the hour if you want to just check it out. See if you need anything.”

“Sure!” They all agreed in varying forms; Spencer nodded and stood, Dallon was the only one to speak, and Brendon just followed them all out the door. Loraine trailed behind him, clipboard held to her chest. She kept trying to get Scott’s attention, but he didn’t seem to hear her as he led them along, chumming it up with Dallon and Spencer. Brendon made no motion to help Loraine get his attention; he was probably ignoring her for some reason he wasn’t about to get in the middle of. She resigned to twisting the sides of her clipboard awkwardly, still behind Brendon.

They all walked down the hallways of offices and conference rooms to get to the back stairwell. Scott led them down to the first floor, wrapping around the banister to another hallway of soundproofed practice spaces. Down the hall there were nine closed doors and one that was propped open, voices trailing out into the hallway. The sound was innately human, but the words and voices were muffled and foreign.

“I guess someone is in there.” Scott noted with a shrug. “That’s okay. I think I’m allowed to drop in on my own talent’s practices.” He laughed, looking at them with a joking smile.

“The meeting ran over, Scott.” Loraine spoke up suddenly. “It’s nearly half past.”

“That’s fine.” Scott waved off Loraine’s weighted sentence with a quick hand as he reached for the door and allowing the band access.

The band in the room stopped talking as Scott entered, obviously intimidated by his elevated status. Brendon assumed they must have been new. He wondered how badly those teenagers had been suckered after seeing their first contract, all sparkly and new and presented by a beautiful woman that actually looked them in the eyes. The band was silent before Brendon entered the room, already preparing himself for the one-way awkward silence of shuffling feet and bumbling words as Scott spoke naturally and with great poise. He didn’t expect actual dead-still, mouth drying _awkward_ silence as he stepped in behind Dallon.

The five band members were gawking at them, eyes checking each face quickly- Brendon’s more than all others. They all had the same general beach bum look; hair at least covering their ears or short but naturally curled on their head, earth tone button-downs, one of them had a suit jacket on with jeans. The band met their look with furrowed eyebrows, two eyes looking at Brendon’s most recent haircut with a fierceness that was taking in each feature delicately, already having some things memorized. Brendon let himself stare right back. It wasn’t like he had a choice; his eyes wouldn’t pull away.

Brendon had almost no time to prepare; he still had bags under his eyes and uneven hands from the years of decline that only recently started to see light. He had no time, but he was trying to give himself as much as possible as he waited for someone to break the silence.

“Boys,” Scott said, waving his arms out to the other side of the room. The band shuffled and lowered their guitars from their hands, ready for the row of handshakes about to be forced upon them. “you know The Young Veins.”

“We’ve met.” Spencer laughed, stepping up and pushing aside Ryan’s extended hand to hug him tightly. Ryan’s eyes were forcefully tugged from Brendon’s as Spencer rushed him. Brendon’s eyes landed on Jon next.

“Hey.” Brendon muttered, holding out a hand. Jon grabbed it with a strong grip and patted the side of his arm. He didn’t respond with any words, but Brendon knew they were already caught up. There wasn’t much else going on in Brendon’s life to have Jon be _that_ clueless. “Good to see you.”

“Don’t think we’ve ever _formally_ met.” Dallon interrupted, walking over to them. “Dallon.”

“Jon. How are you?” Jon replied, holding a hand out and taking Dallon’s. “Do you know any of the other guys?” Jon subtly involved Brendon in the conversation since he also didn’t know, but was too proud to ask. “That’s Andy over there. That’s Nick… And that’s also Nick. Yeah, I know- Yes, we’re talking about you, Murray.” Jon and Dallon laughed as a man turned to look at them from the piano, ears seemingly burning at the quiet introduction. He waved at them kindly, Dallon waving back. “And, that’s Ryan.” Jon didn’t even point. He was already the center of the room.

“I know.” Dallon said. “I’ll go introduce myself.” Dallon walked away, taking Jon’s subtlety with him, leaving Brendon alone with him.

“Already doing more than you.” Jon noted casually, looking at Brendon without any shyness.

Brendon inhaled slowly, filtering down to his most calm response. “I don’t have to introduce myself.”

“Right, because that’s what adults do.” Jon nodded along with Brendon’s thought process. “And the way you’re acting, you two must be goddamn _children_.”

Brendon clenched his jaw as he turned to face Jon. “It’s been _one_ minute.”

“And you still haven’t even looked him in the eye. With anything _other_ than resentment.” Jon said flatly, begging for Brendon to disagree. Brendon had been able to coax Spencer into leaving the topic in some forgotten corner of their past, but he hadn’t been able to do the same work on Jon; he wasn’t going to get out as easily. “Well, looks like you aren’t going to have the choice.” Jon turned away from Brendon only to look at Ryan as he approached them.

“Hey!” He grinned and Brendon felt something in his stomach twist sharply. He had forgotten his defense against Ryan’s smile. “Just met Dallon!” He thumbed over to him, using the motion to turn away from them as soon as he looked at Brendon. “Nice guy. _Tall_ … Very tall.” Brendon clenched his jaw, forbidding any words from passing his lips. “Got a type, I guess.” He laughed alone, Brendon staring at some space just past Ryan’s head, and Jon lifting a hand to cover his face as he sighed. Ryan shuffled in front of them. “That was a bad joke… I’ll give you that. But he’s still really nice.” Ryan waved a hand out to Brendon, as if making some grand effort. “I like him. A lot. Yeah, he’s-” Brendon had to stop the charade.

“Dallon’s not my boyfriend.”

“I-” Ryan’s face froze and he looked at Jon quickly, eyes leaving Brendon’s for only a moment as he tried to scramble back from his mistake. “Oh, _oh_. Okay. I just, _yeah_. I just thought-”

“I’d moved on?” Brendon supplied, voice even and eyes focused on Ryan, but not taking in any feature of agony on his face. He didn’t want Ryan to have the satisfaction of possibly getting sympathy.

“Well… I-” Ryan sputtered to a stop, mouth shutting and ending the topic before he could speak farther. “I… I really like that haircut.” Brendon blinked at him. “It’s different. I mean, last time I saw you-”

“Yeah.” Brendon said abruptly, letting his eyes find Ryan’s. “Last time.” Last time, Ryan had his fingers tangled in it, his lips dependent on Brendon’s and only breaking free to confess he loved him.

“ _Brendon_ -”

“Brendon, come over here! Nick wants to talk with you!” Spencer waved Brendon over and he gladly obliged, letting his eyes stay on Ryan for an extra second. Just long enough to watch regret wash over his face, darkening all the features that were once all the light in Brendon’s life. They were starting to get even.

“Great to finally meet you.” Nick said, still at the piano. “I’ve heard so much.”

“I bet.” Brendon said with a tense smile.

“Yeah. Jon always has a story.”

“Jon.” Brendon echoed. “Right. Because _we_ were inseparable for four years.” Nick nodded awkwardly, not sure what faulty logic he had admitted, but was now agreeing to.

“See, everyone’s getting along.” Scott announced suddenly, having been watching them all circulate the room and shake hands. He was too proud to notice Ryan standing behind him, eyes focused on the floor. “I’ll leave you guys. Let you talk music.” His tone patronized them gently as he waved. The closing door left a ringing silence in its wake.

The two bands looked at one another, silently asking the other what they should be doing as Brendon and Ryan fought their own urges to look at each other. Neither succeeded. Ryan’s hair was shorter than Brendon remembered it, then again, Brendon wasn’t sure how he remembered Ryan at all. He could only run through the same memories so many times before they began to distort. It was short and trimmed- it clashed with the look of the other band members, but it only made him stand out more; his eyes were naturally pulled to him. His hand was gently tracing the collar of his shirt and Brendon could feel the light touch on his own neck, the touch lighting a fire under all the numbness keeping Brendon frozen to the spot.

“Does, uh, does anyone want a smoke?” Andy was suddenly tapping the pack against Brendon’s arm. He spoke to everyone, but was directing it to Brendon first. Subtly was optional.

“Oh, no thanks. I don’t smoke.” Brendon replied, waving him off. Andy nodded and turned to offer it to Nick at the piano.

“What? When did _you_ quit?” Of course, now that Scott wasn’t there, Ryan was going to speak in front of everyone. Like nothing had changed. “You’ve smoked since I’ve known you.” Andy’s clicking lighter grew more frantic.

“You know, it’s _almost_ as if you can do something for five or six years, and then just quit.” Brendon seethed.

“You know, why don’t we get back to practice.” Spencer offered, clapping his hands together. “We’ll go and then you guy can get back to your work.”

“No! Stay, we can all jam for a little bit. See how we sound.” Spencer turned to stare at the drummer with wide eyes. He didn’t try to disagree, but silently asked him if he knew what he was getting himself into. Didn’t seem like any of them did. Recently history showed that Brendon never did.

“Alright, everyone grab something and we’ll just see what happens!” Jon tried to facilitate a cheerful mood.

Ryan was already holding his guitar, his elbows resting on it as he watched the room rearrange slowly. Brendon walked over to the keyboard resting in the back of the room, Spencer leaning against it with auxiliary percussion at his feet. The keyboard was an afterthought to the setup of the room, but Brendon was hoping that if he stood with it, he’d become one too.

“Hey.” Spencer said as Brendon stood beside him. “Just, _try_ to be nice, okay?”

“I _am_ trying.” Brendon huffed, testing the volume with forceful taps to the keys. “Believe me, there are a lot of other things I could be saying. And that he _should_ be saying.”

“Brendon-”

“Don’t worry, Spencer. I’m not going to make you live through it again. Because god forbid you go through something that horrible a second time. I nearly forgot it was _you_ that had severe depression for about a year and lost eighty pounds from your inability to get out of bed. _Gosh_ , how could I _ever_ ask you to go through something like _that_ _again_.” Spencer clenched his jaw, accepting the jab at him.

“Just, _not_ where we work, okay? Scott still thinks we just all decided this amicably.” Spencer said through clenched teeth. “Last thing I want _for you_ is for you to have to explain _everything_ to Scott.” Brendon bit his lip and nodded quickly. Spencer had a point. Brendon was his friend too. “Thank you.”

Between the eight of them music came very easily, starting at one corner of the room, a simple melody layering into a song that was chaotic and noisy, but enough to drown out all dissonance both in the notes and in each other. Brendon kept to himself in the corner, tuning his ears to really only take in his own instrument. An exercise in isolation in a packed room. He would have to get used to it if he was now forcibly going to be in the same room with Ryan and his band for the next few months practicing for a live show. He’d have to learn how to shut everyone out again. Hell, he had perfected it a few years ago, why not sharpen up his skills?

Brendon had lost interest in playing and let his hands rest heavily over the keys, not pressing any of them, but finally following the notes from the others around him. They were all slowly starting to do the same though; their instruments hushed to make the silence for their voices.

“I think the collaborative stuff is going to sound really good.” Dallon noted, looking around the room for agreement. “Don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” Spencer agreed, backing up his bandmate. “Not sure what Scott had in mind for that, but I’m sure no matter what he comes up with its gonna be great.”

“I have missed your ceaseless positivity.” Ryan laughed, rolling his eyes. “Forced as it is, it’s nice to hear again.” The strangers in the room looked between the two of them with slight curiosity. “Guys, _this_ is Spencer. The one I grew up with- I’ve known him since I was six.”

“No shit.” Andy nodded, somehow only now lighting his cigarette. Or lighting a new one, Brendon hadn’t paid enough attention.

“Yeah.” Ryan looked back at him with a bright smile. Brendon was too close to Spencer to avoid its affects. “It’s going to be nice working together again. I mean, I went from seeing him every day at work and then at home, to then… Just texting every so often. But now, back together!” He pondered on the collision of their paths with far too much nostalgia while he disregarded others as if they were high school acquaintances. Andy responded with another comment, holding his cigarette out for Ryan to take while he spoke, but Ryan waved him away. Ryan was apparently successful at quitting and keeping to his promises- or at least those he kept with cigarettes. A fag of a different kind; got more respect.

“You text him?” Brendon asked Spencer, keeping his eyes on the rest of the room, trying to act inconspicuous. Spencer did the same.

“Ryan’s my best friend, Brendon. Of course I do.” Spencer apparently had attempted to tell Brendon this with earlier comments. “I never _stopped_ talking to him.” Brendon felt betrayed. At every moment, even when he thought that Ryan had been pulled completely from his life, there was still a trace of him.

“What did you tell him.”

“What?” Spencer’s head whipped around to stare at him. “I-I didn’t tell him anything, Brendon. He doesn’t know anything. I would never tell him about that. It’s not my place.”

“Oh.” Brendon muttered, fiddling with the cords on the back of the keyboard. “T-Thanks.” The room was beginning to rearrange itself again, most of them shifting towards the door.

“You gonna be okay?” Spencer asked, already beginning to follow the crowd. “We can talk tomorrow if you need. I can come over. Like I used to.”

Brendon didn’t want any nostalgia attached to Spencer’s offer. There was nothing to be well-remembered about the days Spencer would come over, bringing Brendon’s mail and fresh groceries that he’d never eat all because Brendon would be upstairs under three blankets and a drawn hood, unable to muster the energy to be anything but numb and half-dead.

“I’m fine.” Brendon said shortly, unplugging the keyboard to try and cleanup a bit of the mess they had all made in their space; it would be better to clean then than have to clean mid-practice. “See you later.”

“Alright, see you. Take care of yourself.” Spencer stepped out from the small percussion section and started for the door, catching up with Dallon and already speaking with a splitting grin, Brendon’s grimace having no effect on him.

The door shut while Brendon had his back turned, continuing to circling the cord around his arm. He expected to be alone, the other guys all heading out to discuss their new adjoined fame, but there were the familiar clicks of case clamps that sent Brendon spinning, staring at the other man in the room.

“Brendon, can I talk to you. For just a second.” Ryan placed his guitar down in its case and stuffed his hands in his pockets, stepping toward him slowly. Casually. Like it was still his space too.

“I plan to be out of the studio in the next fifteen minutes.” Brendon said flatly, wrapping up the ends of the cord and placing the coil on the back of the piano. “You have five.”

“Really? I want to actually have a conversation and maybe… _maybe_ even grow enough of a pair to apologize, and you want to force it into _five minutes_.” Ryan was laughing but it was mostly from lack of surprise. If he wasn’t going to change, then over time Brendon guessed he wasn’t going to either.

“Well, are you going to mean anything you say this time or should I wait around for the never occurring phone call of the real one?” They were apparently through with all preambles. Enough about hair and boyfriends and old times. Their wounds were still open and bleeding. There was no other way around it anymore.

“ _Brendon_.”

“No. You don’t get to start this now. You told me you would call me when you were ready- and I _waited_.” Brendon turned away from the piano and faced him. Ryan could see all of him; Brendon gave him everything, just like always. “Fuck Ryan, I _waited_. I was patient. I waited for you. I did everything right. And you _blew me off_.”

“I know.” Ryan sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair.

“You said you would tell me when you were ready-”

“I was going to... I might still need some time, Brendon.” He took another step.

“Time for _what_? It’s been _years_.”

“I know… I just, I still don’t know how I feel about things.”

“You mean me.” Brendon had become especially adept in seeing through Ryan’s lies over the years. He had plenty of time to study.

“No. If I am sure about anything, it’s you.” Brendon blinked and he swore he was nineteen again. Time was lost and Ryan had him. “I just, I don’t know if we should.” Everything that came before that moment started rushing to mind, Brendon nearly crumpling in his own defense. It was the most they had spoken in years and somehow Ryan was still going to break up with him.

“But we were _great_ together, Ryan. We were amazing. We were unstoppable. We were… We just _were_.” Brendon sank down on the piano bench and wrung his hands.

“I know, baby. I know.” Ryan sighed, sitting down beside him and placing a hand on Brendon’s leg carefully. His fingers touched down first, waiting for the leg beneath them to jerk away. But Brendon didn’t. Ryan knew he couldn’t. He had missed him. “We were so good… But we were also so fucking horrible.” They had been a wildfire; a force of nature no foolish mortals like themselves could understand or control. They destroyed everything around them until there was nothing left to burn, running themselves into the ocean only to then try and drown each other.

“But instead of trying to figure it all out, you left me.” Brendon retorted, the clarity painful to finally admit.

“I know.”

“I told you that I loved you and that I was ready to commit and be _yours_. Your boy. I wanted to only be with you.”

“I know, Bren. I remember.” Ryan sighed, wincing at Brendon’s gaining exasperation.

“I was ready and you told me that you needed time. That we needed to breathe before we dove into something like that- we were just being stupid and short-sighted.” Brendon lost against his own resistance and placed his hand on top of Ryan’s. “I _was_ short-sighted. But that was because all I could see was you.” Brendon had never been happier being with Ryan. The months they spent on the road; the hours they spent sitting up in each other’s hotel rooms simply talking, but somehow always giving the other guys the impression they were up to something else; the nights they _did_ spend together- the mornings too. It was all a beautifully orchestrated mess, the two of them far too invested in the other to know when to stop, when to let themselves come up for air. But Brendon was more than willing to drown. And Ryan let him while he made it out alive.

“Brendon, we weren’t ready for that.”

“Weren’t ready?! Ryan, I have been sitting and waiting for _years_. I haven’t let any of this go. I was always ready. It was you that felt doubt. I never did. I meant everything. Now I’m waiting for you to finally do the same.” Brendon pushed Ryan’s hand off his leg and stood from the piano bench and left the rehearsal room. He called after Brendon, his footsteps familiar and strong, catching up to him in half the strides. Brendon pretended to be alone, no longer running from Ryan’s ghost but finally leaving him behind. It was dead. He had to leave the body, leave it dead and bloated at the bottom of the body of water far too deep for either of them.

He tried to speak again but Brendon never even bothered to listen. His words floated away, meaning and carrying nothing. The narrow, empty hallway tried to bolster Ryan’s voice, trick Brendon into finally caving and listening to those words that used to wrap around him at night, used to calm the twisting inside him, used to try and sink him.

“Brendon _please_. Just listen to me.”

“And why should I?” Brendon spat, reaching to shove the exit door open.

“Because I am starting to come around.”

His hands pressed against the metal door, but Brendon couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to open it. Brendon couldn’t let himself out. He was trapping himself again. He let the door stay closed. He let himself listen to Ryan.

It was exactly what Brendon wanted to hear and Ryan knew it. Fuck, he knew it. He knew where Brendon would bend and where he would break. And he knew where Brendon crumbled.

“Ryan.”

“I know this doesn’t make any sense right now, but-”

“Ryan, I need you to think about what you are about to say. Because I don’t think I can go through it twice. If you mean it, you know where to find me.” Brendon didn’t look at Ryan as he finally pushed the door open.

“Find you- Brendon wait!” Ryan followed him outside and grabbing his hand. Brendon waited for the forceful tug backwards into Ryan’s arms, but he nearly wrapped his fingers around Brendon’s hand and held it. He joined Brendon’s space, slipped back into it without so much as a correct apology.

“Don’t _touch me_.” Brendon shouted, yanking his hand out of Ryan’s. They came apart far too easily. It used to be an act of God before, the forces of the Earth already clashing as they mended and then needed again to separate them. Ryan’s fingers slipped through Brendon’s without a scratch. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What? No.” Ryan said, shaking his head. “I- I’m sorry.” Ryan stopped himself and stared down at his hands, maybe seeing their flaws too. All the immorality they had lost. “Listen, Brendon, I want to talk to you.”

“Have we not been doing that?” Brendon asked, folding his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to be molded that easily.

“Actually no.” Ryan chuckled, but mostly at their surrounds; the back alley of their label, cars parked around the nearest wall. They could still hear the other band members’ voices. “We’re mostly just shouting at one another.”

“Just like old times.” Brendon grinned. “I’ve _really_ missed it.”

“Brendon, _please_.”

“Since when do you beg? Thought that was my job.” The waves of guilt consuming Ryan were beginning to wear on Brendon. His words were growing too sharp; he couldn’t run them into Ryan’s heart without slicing open his own hand.

“I just want to talk. About everything. Anything you want. I promise. We’ll have that talk.” Ryan held his hands out to Brendon, eyes wide and pleading. “Baby, please.”

Ryan never begged, never _groveled_. This was the man that had completely abandoned Brendon without so much as a note, phone call- or as Brendon could now add- text message from his childhood friend. Ryan fell off the map and left Brendon to scramble to find him. He followed paths that lead nowhere, footprints that disappeared, and messages that no one else seemed to hear. Ryan had been ruthless to save his own heart, letting Brendon scream from the bottom of the ocean, Ryan’s last embrace anchoring him, while Ryan swam to the surface. He was pulled to safety and Brendon was left to shout and wave and scream until he couldn’t any longer, remaining collapsed and ruined for the next eight months. Finally, someone swam down to listen to him. But they didn’t understand, and they never unchained him. Ryan was offering Brendon that chance to surface. Or he was asking to join him.

“How long do I have to wait for _this_ talk?” Brendon asked, trying to pull back on his bite, but also knowing that he couldn’t be fooled again. He didn’t think he could suffer for another eight months. His life had to start moving forward; the past would consume him in time.

“You don’t… I-I’ll tell you everything now.” Ryan was being honest. Brendon was terrified. “Come over. We’ll be in private. Not here.” Ryan waved around at the walls sending their words ringing up into the sky. “Just for a few hours.”

“Go where?” Brendon still had his arms up, not taking the hands Ryan held out for him.

“My house.” Brendon fought the feeling reaching for his heart, making it pound faster at the thought of finally being _alone_ with Ryan. The reality could finally be explained to him. Brendon could either be built back up or thoroughly destroyed for good.

He lowered his arms. “…Okay.”

“Okay?” Ryan echoed, his lips tugging into a smile they both knew was too premature. “I’ll drive.”

“I know where you live.” Brendon intended to sound insulting; Ryan couldn’t hide from him _that_ well. They still always had their meeting places.

“Oh, I don’t live there anymore.” _There_. Their old home had become some vague, unidentifiable place. “I had to sell it.” Ryan’s face twisted into discomfort as he itched the back of his neck, his eyes leaving Brendon’s to look in the direction of the echoing laughter from around the corner. He was sure to miss the devastation crossing Brendon’s face.

Ryan _had to_. He couldn’t live another second in the home they had claimed as their own. The house Ryan would say belonged to the two of them, it was their safe place. The house they would lock themselves in and forget there could be anyone else on the planet but each other. The house Brendon had slowly become a part of, his clothes finding homes in drawers Ryan always seemed to keep empty. The house that saw Brendon figure out he had a side to the bed. The house that heard every fight, every make up, and heard their only ‘I love you’s. The guilt must have eaten Ryan alive. _Good_.

“Too big for one person?” Brendon pretended it was an innocent comment. Ryan pressed his lips together as he looked back to Brendon. “I mean, but that’s not counting the different people you pretend to be.”

Ryan turned away to ignore Brendon’s continued beratement. “I’ll drive.” Brendon had apparently gone too far, ripping open an already gaping wound he didn’t know about. Ryan looked ashamed, all defense drying up as he searched for his car keys. Brendon hadn’t intended to be right about anything. He had been hurt for so long, it turned to bitter resentment, but how was it that Ryan still seemed upset, splashing his hands in the water and calling after Brendon. “Is that okay?” Ryan wasn’t, so Brendon just nodded slowly.

Brendon was well aware that if Ryan drove him to his house, he’d have no way of leaving at his own accord. He pretended he didn’t notice, giving himself enough of an excuse to walk right into destruction. He was going to do it regardless, but this just made it look out of his control. How could it be? It never was with Ryan; Brendon relinquished all control to him, hand open hoping to receive Ryan’s in return. He was still waiting.

Everyone else had already gone by the time they walked around to the parking lot. Brendon followed behind Ryan, both of them hiding their faces from the other as they approached Ryan’s car. The ritual seemed broken now; typically the two of them leaving Brendon’s car in a parking lot as they fumbled with keys and buttons into Ryan’s car, not wanting to lose any time between their then location and Ryan’s house. They walked slowly, no laughter bouncing around a starlit sky, no frantic mutterings that went unnoticed by the world, nothing between them. Only their footsteps to assure the other they were following.

Ryan fixed his mirrors as Brendon got into the passenger seat. His hands having nothing else to do but rest in his lap, picking at his thumbnail, as Ryan stalled. Brendon resisted the urge to reach over and place his hand over Ryan’s where it hung over on the arm rest. He didn’t know what else to do with himself when he was with Ryan; he didn’t know how to be separate.

“Are you alright?” Ryan asked. Brendon blinked at him, unsure how to respond. “I mean- are you still nervous around LA traffic?”

“Are you still a shitty driver?” Brendon responded. Ryan laughed quietly and ducked his head.

“If you remember, my poor driving choices came from many _persistent_ distractions.” Ryan countered with a smirk, shaking his head as he put his key in the ignition. “So, really, the question is: Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

Heat ran to Brendon’s face, starting nearly in the middle of his chest and constricting his breathing. Luckily, Ryan was focused on the road and didn’t notice his heavy blushing. Brendon turned toward the window and pretended like he wasn’t going to dignify Ryan with a response when really, all words had turned to stones, settling in his stomach and sinking him farther to the bottom of the ocean.

The car ride was silent, but never growing tense. It was the longest they had ever been with each other in four years, and they weren’t trying to rip each other’s throats out. Brendon could hear Ryan’s quiet humming as he waiting for red lights to change, his quiet grumbling as someone slowed at a green light to suddenly change lanes, his slow breathing that Brendon could sync with without trying. It was like living an old memory, no current resentment poisoning the contentment that warmed Brendon.

They stopped at another red light, the line looking like they’d miss the next green light as well. Brendon felt the silence slowly shift over to the moments of hyperattention towards every sound and breath just before you’d shattered it completely.

“Hey… Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Ryan leaned his elbow on the door and rested the back of his head in his hand as he turned to look at Brendon. He was smiling.

 _Why are you doing this? Did your conscience get to be too much? Too heavy? Are you finally starting to sink back down to the dark, lifeless trench you left me in for the past four years? What did I ever do to deserves this? Did you think it would all just resolve itself? Why did you say it back to me if you didn’t mean it?_ “N-Nothing. Forget it.”

“No, what?” Ryan encouraged. “What did you want to ask?” Ryan was uncomfortably kind; he was choosing to cross a mine field without even testing the steps in front of him. Brendon could have asked anything. But he wasn’t going to ask anything too ridiculous; he just wanted to pursue the guilt he saw earlier, the persona he saw cross his path.

“Why did you come up to me like everything was fine?” Brendon took it back; the question was just a _little_ ridiculous. but somehow he still expected an answer. Ryan promised.

“Well… Frankly, I didn’t know what to do. I mean, we were told we wouldn’t share a practice space until later… and then, you were just _there_ and… and I _panicked_.” Ryan laughed, shaking his head. His took a slow breath, sobering his expression. “I mean, what could I say? Come up with just ‘ _I’m sorry, forgive me_ ’?”

“Actually, in the past four years, those are the words I could have used the most.” Brendon replied dryly. “Actually, any words _at all_.”

“I know.” Ryan muttered, turning back to the road as the light changed and traffic began to move. “I know I left you in the dark.”

“Try _blind_ , Ryan.” Brendon raised his voice accidentally, immediately lowering it and trying to control the anger boiling inside him. It was nice to be civil, but there was something in Brendon that still didn’t feel justice. What Ryan started in the practice room wasn’t just accepted commonplace now, he had to answer for his sudden change of heart. His ‘coming around’. “I mean, one minute I’m telling you that I _love you_ and the next, you act as if we’ve never met. I spent _months_ wondering what the fuck I got myself into. I had to learn how to be apart from you. I hadn’t done it in so long… I forgot how to do _everything_.”

“You didn’t forget everyt-”

“I didn’t leave my house, or really my _bed_ , for almost a full year.”

If Ryan hadn’t already slowed to a stop at the second red light, they surely would have gotten into an accident. Ryan turned to stare at Brendon with a paled and shocked expression. His lips parted to speak, but the words never surfaced. He sat, seemingly stuck, his breath frozen and only slipping out through his open mouth in a slow exhale, never to be replenished. Now he knew how Brendon felt. Ryan had no idea his actions had such unavoidable consequences- and he walked up to Brendon with _‘hey’_. He walked up to Brendon and expected it all to just cure itself. He walked up with the bitter taste of lies on his lips and tried to spin it into honey for Brendon again. He was trying to convince Brendon that there was still something there, that maybe he hadn’t lied all those years ago. He walked up as if Brendon wouldn’t still be in love with him.

“Brendon… I-”

“Light’s green.” Brendon motioned toward the stoplight and kept his eyes focused ahead of him.

“I didn’t know.” Ryan offered shamefully. “I had no idea…”

Brendon bit his tongue the rest of the drive.

After the never-ending reign of stoplights, it was only a few more blocks to Ryan’s street. It was quiet, houses ranging in style and size. One of the neighbors out on their lawn waved to their car as they passed. Ryan lived in an actual neighborhood, not just a house that sat along some others on a street. They probably knew him, his life, his friends. He probably knew the same. He was planted somewhere. He had started a real life. He did it so easily- all without Brendon. Ryan’s house was towards the end of the street, small and of asymmetrical design. The roof slanted only to one side, the house looking cut in half and incomplete. Served him fucking right.

“Alright. Here we are.” Ryan tried to announce their arrival like they had been on a long trip and were finally back to their own home and safety, but it came out like an apology.

They both climbed out of the car and walked slowly to the front door, yet another tradition broken and now unfamiliar. Ryan got the right key into the front door on the first try. He didn’t even look to make sure Brendon was right behind him, he just opened the door and walked inside.

The foyer of Ryan’s old house had double the amount of shoes Ryan owned- half of them being Brendon’s- a side table with haphazardly thrown keys, nearly knocked over tables, and without fail _someone’s_ shirt that they just couldn’t figure out its owner. But this foyer was nearly empty. Ryan didn’t even stop to take off his shoes as he breezed through it, pushing his keys back into his pocket and leading Brendon into the living room. Everything was clean, barren, and white. Brendon felt like a complete stranger. Before, he had a drawer, a side of the bed, a seat at the table, a towel in the bathroom, shoes on the floor, clothes in the hamper. But now Brendon had nothing. He had to be introduced. He was starting all over again.

Brendon tried to humor the thought that maybe that was a good thing.

“You want a beer?” Ryan was already out of the room when Brendon decided to sit down.

“No thanks.”

“Don’t tell me you quit this too?” Ryan laughed, still walking out of the kitchen with two beers. He had asked only to be polite. “C’mon, it’s our favorite.” _Our_. Because Brendon still hadn’t gotten it right; he still wasn’t separate. He never could be. Brendon took the bottle from Ryan and leaned against the armrest, turned in towards him. Ryan took the other side of the couch and did the same.

“Well?” Brendon started, holding the bottle awkwardly.

“Yeah?” Ryan took a sip from his own bottle. He was already comfortable, Brendon in his home again, back in his life. Ryan had the luxury of knowing Brendon would come back into his life at some point- it was his call- but Brendon didn’t. The idea of the two of them sharing a beer together would have brought Brendon to his knees in desperate tears a few years ago, begging to know that it was true; he wouldn’t be sinking alone anymore.

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“For what?” Ryan blinked and looked at Brendon with a confused expression. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Oh, is that how this all got out of hand? You were actually just waiting for me this whole time!” Brendon sneered, throwing his hand up and placing the beer bottle down on the coffee table forcefully. “Oh, of course how could I-”

“Brendon.” Ryan said calmly, placing a hand on his knee. “I just meant I’m waiting for you to ask _me_. I figure if I start talking it will sound rehearsed and like I’m just making excuses. I want to know what you want.”

“What I want? What I _want_?!” Brendon continued shouting, the empty house rattling at the second voice. “Do you even _care_ what I want? You haven’t cared about what I want the entire time we’ve been together. It’s just been about _you-_ ”

“You’re joking, right?” Ryan laughed sincerely as he took a slow sip of his beer. His hand was still on Brendon’s leg, relaxing and sliding further up by force of habit.

“No. No I’m not _joking_. I let you walk all over me because it’s what made _you_ feel better, Ryan. I let you nearly destroy my life.” Brendon could feel his chest tightening as his lip quivered. A staple in their arguments: tears.

“That’s not my fault.” Ryan retorted sharply.

“Isn’t it?” Brendon asked, pushing Ryan’s hand off his leg. “I told you I _loved you_. We were on your couch, just like we are now, and we-”

“-we were fooling around and it was like we said it all the time. You barely even knew you said it, half of it a sigh, the other half fiery conviction… You just kept talking afterwards, rambling and crying and holding onto me like there was something trying to pull you away from me.” Ryan finished. He took a another sip from his beer. Brendon waited for him to continue; it was about time he heard his side of the story. “And you were so… _Fuck_ , _Brendon_. You were blissed out, half out of your damn mind but you spoke in perfect clarity about how you _loved me_ … How you just wanted to be with me. Be my boy. God, you were melting in my hands and I could feel your heart actually _pounding_ against my chest. I had never felt more close to someone… And it just slipped out. I said it back.” Ryan placed his bottle down next to Brendon’s. “And then you started talking about… other people knowing. The label, the whole damn _world_.”

“You got scared.” Brendon found the hidden message in the story; he didn’t need to hear the end. “I mentioned being the label’s _fag-_ ”

“What? _No_! No, it wasn’t like that!” Ryan moved closer to Brendon on the couch, his hand finding its way back onto his leg. “I just… I remember, after you fell asleep, I just couldn’t relax. I kept thinking about it. I mean, before we were just those two stupid teenagers that kept trying to find a secluded corner with just enough time to jerk each other off before acting like nothing happened. We were just young and stupid. But then… You-”

“Ruined it.”

“Made it real.” Ryan mumbled, looking down at his own hand, fingers splaying out over Brendon’s knee. “You said you loved me and all that _fire_ and _heat_ and _intensity_ was suddenly supposed to be funneled and contained… I didn’t think we were ready for that. Imagine us being in interviews and having to keep that costume. It would have ruined us, Brendon. We weren’t ready for that.”

“Says who?” Brendon’s chest was still tightening, but it seemed to run parallel with the hand tracing patterns along the denim of his jeans. “Who decided we couldn’t have done it?”

“… I did, I guess.” Ryan admitted. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was ignorant to his mistakes. Brendon thought it would feel good, having Ryan admit fault, but he was still _his_ Ryan. This was all something that Ryan thought he couldn’t tell him. This was a conversation they could have had four years ago, but instead it was the force that lifted Ryan to the surface and separated them. “I didn’t think I meant it, that next morning when you asked me. I thought it was supposed to feel different. So I said that I lied… And then I guess I picked up the habit.” Ryan shrugged weakly and let his head lean against the back of the couch.

“You… You lied to me.” Brendon echoed, some wrongful excitement growing in his chest and feeling like his tongue was slipping down the back of his throat to his stomach, filling it with lead. “You _lied_ to me.”

“Yes, let’s say it again, Brendon. I don’t think I’ve had enough time to think about it.” Ryan muttered, closing his eyes and turning into the couch. “I lied to you, just to get you angry enough to start fuming… and then I tried to cool you down. I thought it would work- a controlled burn, you know? I mean, I was absolutely crazy about you, I didn’t mean to get you so _mad_.” Without Ryan’s watchful eyes, Brendon bite his lip, regret forcing his memories to the forefront. Brendon remember how quickly he had started yelling. Ryan told him he needed space and left Brendon’s personal and work life in a matter of _minutes_ from when he woke up. Brendon wasn’t even fully dressed before Ryan was telling him to get out of _his_ house. “It was a mistake I didn’t even think could be fixed.”

“So you just… Let me wait.” Brendon said. There was still an important _year_ after that day that Brendon spent waiting for Ryan to break their silence. And then Ryan did it with a song. Impersonal but with enough clarity to be directed towards him. It was their _only_ communication before that day.

“I didn’t think you’d wait that long, Brendon. I honestly didn’t.” Ryan breathed, turning his head to look at Brendon again. “I know that’s not any form of any excuse but I swore after that fight you’d come to your senses and stop that _dream_.”

Brendon set his jaw and blinked at Ryan slowly. “You thought that the boy who, in the hazy and breathless height of passion admitted that he _loved you_ , was just going to give you up. Just going to quit?” Brendon curled his fingers into a fist, trying to resist his own urge to place his hand on Ryan’s. “Ryan, I waited for weeks before I even began to _humor_ the idea that you weren’t going to call me. I couldn’t even fathom the idea.”

“I know… I told you. I lied once and I thought it would fix everything if I kept going.” Ryan sighed and shook his head. The guilt was lifting from his shoulders, but he still couldn’t seem to look relieved. “Brendon, I’m sorry. I owe you that about a million times over, but I’m _sorry_. I shoved you to the side, left you in the dark-” Brendon placed his hand over Ryan’s slowly. It was electric again, their hands mending together. Ryan’s words died out, becoming just a sigh as he lifted his head from the couch. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you going to lie to me again?” Brendon asked. His chest felt like it was swelling as he finally approached the surface. Ryan moved closer to Brendon again, his hand slipping out from underneath Brendon’s to rest on his thigh. Brendon’s hand followed blindly, Brendon’s eyes fixed on the wide and startled ones staring back at him.

“No.” Ryan breathed, shaking his head. “I told you… I’m starting to come around… I- I _want_ those things for us.” Brendon bit his lip to try and hide his body tensing from a quick inhale. He finally broke the surface. He was out of the water. Ryan placed his other hand on Brendon’s opposite leg. “Brendon, I _wasted_ four years thinking that we didn’t deserve those things… The whole image of it all- living together, shared names, admitting love, all of it. And… And now?” Ryan stopped himself, closing his mouth quickly. Brendon watched his throat bob as he swallowed stiffly- he hoped it hadn’t been his words.

“And?”

“And now, I would be honored if you loved me back.” Ryan had somehow made it across the couch, his legs touching Brendon’s and voice barely needing to be above a whisper to reach Brendon. The house had to strain to capture its echo.

“W-What?” Brendon breathed hurriedly, his chest heaving as everything began to slip away from him.

“I told you.” Ryan had a weak smile on his lips, his eyes falling on Brendon’s. “I lied before.”

Ryan had loved him. All these years Brendon spent convincing himself that it was over and that Brendon had no business missing Ryan since he didn’t even love him was for nothing. Every day that Brendon spent reliving that night, remembering how every word poured out of him without any thought. Ryan was right; Brendon was practically speaking in tongues, sprawled out on the couch under Ryan and feeling like there was nothing else for him. He was no longer in the world of the rational, the only thing he had the ability to fixate on becoming Ryan. Brendon could never seem to forget that feeling, his skin thrumming and body losing all feeling except for his stomach that seemed to turn into a knot that only sank lower. It would sink and pool into heat, his entire body tensing around it. There was no way he could forget it; he was feeling it all over again.

“I love you, Brendon.”

The words slipped past Ryan’s lips easily, Brendon instinctively moving closer as if to catch them. They both stopped, enough space between them to still pull away if they wanted. Ryan’s nose was nearly touching Brendon’s, the two of them lost staring at each other’s lips. All the lies that had passed through them and finally, he was being honest.

Brendon shut his eyes, trying to quiet his breathing. He was waiting to feel Ryan’s nose brush against his, toying with the idea of them kissing again. Brendon tried not to lean forward or seem like he was eager at all, like there wasn’t a coiling knot sitting low in stomach and making his hands curl back into fists, wrapping around Ryan’s hand. The time that passed was immeasurable; Brendon had already been waiting for four years, he wasn’t sure if it was seconds or hours passing him. It had definitely been at least another year before Brendon felt Ryan come closer to him. His hand splayed out against his thigh just as his nose brushed over Brendon’s cheek. His breath hovered over Brendon’s lips, both of them parted and waiting for the other. Four years and they still had the time to wait further.

“I… I really want to kiss you.” Ryan muttered, his moving lips catching Brendon’s bottom lip for an invisible second that was erased from time as Brendon felt his entire body submit to the wave of heat consuming him. “I’d really like to tell you the way you told me. If that’s okay?”

“T-T-That’s fine.” Brendon stuttered. He pulled on Ryan’s hands and tried to bring him closer. “I- I love you too. Never stopped.” He spoke against Ryan’s lips hurriedly, knowing their time was quickly fading. Words were on borrowed time.

“I know. I know, baby.” Ryan breathed, giving in to Brendon’s gentle tugging and falling into him. “I know, I’m sorry.”

They silenced each other with a kiss, Brendon leaning away from the couch to meet Ryan and silence his next apology; Brendon didn’t need to hear it anymore. Ryan tugged on Brendon’s bottom lip, trying to use the elongated moment, catching Brendon in a haze of uneven breathing and suppressed moans to slip away, but he never seemed successful. His teeth would graze over it, never even applying pressure or commitment of any kind before Ryan was jerking back forward, trying to press his body against Brendon’s with frantic urgency. He lifted a hand from Brendon’s leg to press against his chest, a soft sigh escaping as his hand settled between their bodies.

“Brendon, I… I don’t want to push this past the line.” He muttered, breaking off to kiss Brendon in a series of short-growing-longer kisses between his words. “We can’t.”

“No no no we can.” Brendon argued, reaching up to clutch the sides of Ryan’s face. He could feel the anchor tying around his ankles again. He didn’t want to sink; it would pull them apart. Brendon held Ryan tightly as he pulled his lips back against his own. “We’re good together. We’re _good_.”

“I know. I know.” Ryan panted, still trying to have a continuous thought. “Baby, I think you need time.” Ryan was trying to give Brendon time to process all he had been stuck with, sulking with, with four years. He was trying to stop them from diving right back into the ocean. “I love you. That’s not going to change tomorrow.”

Brendon’s grip softened and his breathing seemed to stop at its last quick inhale. It wouldn’t change in the morning. The rush, the urgency, the frantic pulling, grabbing, _wanting_ each other came from the fear that if Brendon didn’t kiss Ryan _now_ he never would. Ryan would change his mind and deny everything he promised Brendon- for a second time. Brendon had somehow held onto him with all he had and Ryan still slipped away from him; he wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again.

One of the worst liars had been Brendon; he never learned how to go on without Ryan. He was just learning how to suffer through it all until they’d be together again. Until Brendon didn’t have to cling to Ryan, tears in his eyes and words fumbling out of his mouth faster than he was sure anyone could comprehend them, to know Ryan would stay with him.

Brendon lowered his hands from Ryan’s face, letting them find an innocent place in his own lap. “Tomorrow you better still mean it.”

“Brendon, I always meant it.” Ryan sighed, placing a gentle, slow kiss against Brendon’s lips. Ryan leaned back, giving Brendon the chance to catch his breath and reopen his fluttering eyes. There was still heat in his cheeks, spreading down his neck, but Brendon felt no shame looking at Ryan in a similar condition, eyes wide and trying to take all of Brendon in at once. “I really don’t want you to leave me tonight.” He said quietly, as if to himself. If they had been a little bit further apart, it would have been.

“So I won’t.” Brendon answered, smiling at the thought of the bare, empty house having to hold them both. All their words, stories, worries, love, confusion, everything would have a place to settle. Maybe, one day, they would too. “Just… Just for tonight.” Brendon had picked up the habit of lying too.

“Okay, just tonight. N-No pressure. If you want to go, I-I can drive you back.” Ryan offered, his hands still resting on Brendon’s leg, fingers drumming on it slowly and in rhythm with his hesitance. “Just tonight.”

Already, they were lying to each other, but Brendon didn’t seem to think it was much of a problem. If lying is what allowed both of them to wander naively back into the ocean, bodies entangled and trying to stay afloat while clinging to the other, then Brendon was going to have to practice a little more; Ryan still had far more convincing experience.


	2. Make Me Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested by an anon and ililydun on tumblr to see a little more of Ryan and Brendon's reunion, and Ryan's reaction to hearing the truth.  
> Had so much fun writing this fic! Thank you for reading!

Brendon woke on his own, the room dark and quiet, time still lost somewhere between sunrise and sunset. His sheets felt soft but unusual, sliding across his body as he rolled over. He reached out lazily to grab the other end of the blanket to pull into himself. It was colder in his room than he usually kept it, Brendon trying his best to curl into his own warmth. A quiet grumble of disapproval accompanied a light shove to his hand as he reached out on the mattress.

Brendon screamed and sat up, the mattress suddenly not feeling his own, his hands sinking into the material as the blanket’s unknown fabric rubbed against his legs. He scrambled out from under the covers and fell to the floor, trying to find a light to give him a sense of what was happening. He didn’t know where he was to even begin plotting a plan to find the light. Before Brendon could fully get to his feet, a small light in front of him clicked on, a familiar figure sitting up in bed, hand under the lampshade.

“Brendon?” Ryan asked, voice soft but hoarse. “What’s wrong?” He sounded incredulous.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan.” Brendon breathed, placing a hand over his chest. It was thudding against his chest frantically, trying to come down. “You scared me.”

“Scared you?” Ryan repeated, sounding apologetic immediately. “What did I do?”

“You were _there_.” Brendon replied honestly. He hadn’t been in the same bed with someone in over four years; the other body startled him. “It just… It scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” Ryan offered, moving closer to Brendon’s side of the bed and holding a hand out to help him up. “Want to come back?”

Brendon didn’t even need to think it through. He wished he had _known_ he had been back with Ryan, sleeping beside him again and sharing his space. He wished he had known everything had gone back to the way it was. Brendon could have enjoyed it for those few moments when he was still returning to the world of the conscious, but still lost in a dream. He could have immortalized that feeling of contentment and warmth. Instead, Brendon tried to settle back next to Ryan awkwardly, both of them hyperaware of the other’s body and where it was. Brendon pulled the blankets up and placed his arms over it, keeping his hands from finding Ryan’s under the sheets. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, one he didn’t recognize, a room he hadn’t had the pleasure of getting to know.

“Wait.” Brendon said, his brain suddenly flashing back to the night before. Their agreement to stop things, to let Brendon have time to process, to come back around too. Their agreement to take things slow. “Wait, didn’t I go to sleep on the couch?”

“You did.” Ryan replied, still trying to get comfortable beside Brendon, staying the closest to his edge of the bed as he could, the light turning off again. “But then you stumbled in here around midnight. You said you didn’t want to be down there anymore.” Ryan stopped moving and suddenly settled. “Said you were alone.”

“I don’t remember saying that.” Brendon’s voice sounded like he wanted to argue, but it was more with himself than Ryan. He hadn’t meant to admit it to Ryan. He didn’t want to let Ryan know just how long it had been since he had shared any part of himself with someone. He didn’t want to tell Ryan that the last person was still him; that after he gave himself to Ryan, every last piece, he hadn’t been able to get it back in order to move on; he was always going to be waiting for Ryan.

“That’s okay. Maybe you were sleep walking.” Ryan sounded careful, like he was trying to talk Brendon down without sounding dismissive; he obviously didn’t mind the intrusion. “I don’t care. A bed has two sides.”

“Sleep walking.” Brendon mulled the thought over, although it seemed more and more likely that some part of Brendon knew that he was no longer alone in his house, lying in the same bed he had been for months on end, alone and wishing there was something warming the other half. Something missing from the other half that would come back with a quiet ‘good night’ before kissing his cheek and turning off the light. Brendon probably, in a dream state of finally living a dream, saw the chance to end his cycle of isolation and brought himself up to the room he heard Ryan walk up to hours before. “Sorry if I woke you.” Brendon apologized, twisting a wrinkle in the comforter between his fingers. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” Ryan laughed, reaching a hand out from under the blankets to rest on Brendon’s hand. The touch was gentle and careful, feeling like he was touching Brendon for the first time all over again. Like it was in Ryan’s house after a practice, everyone outside laughing with each other, but Ryan and Brendon muttering their own private nothings to each other in the kitchen, Ryan’s hand splaying over Brendon’s as they both rested on the counter. Like Brendon was nineteen and the only Earthly matter he cared about was standing right in front of him, taking interest in every word and every mistake and every stutter. Ryan placed his hand over Brendon’s on the blankets and he could feel himself trust Ryan all over again.

“I didn’t mean to scream.” Brendon reiterated, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. “You just scared me.”

The two of them fell into silence again, regretfully reminding Brendon that _that_ was their new normal. Unspeakable words and hushed declarations were all they knew. Brendon hadn’t stirred in a few minutes, half thinking in the pitch black he had fallen asleep, when he heard slow shuffling beside him. Ryan never was a peaceful sleeper.

“Hey, Brendon?” Ryan’s voice reached over in the dark and nudged him awake. He could feel Ryan’s hand trying to do the same, although his fingers merely rested on his shoulder carefully, afraid to push any further. “C-Can I ask you something?” Brendon wanted to remain silent, but the involuntary hitch in his breathing betrayed him. Ryan knew what he sounded like when he slept; he was fooling no one. “You can say no.” Brendon said nothing. “I’m just… _curious_. I-I don’t mean to _imply_ anything or cross a line… You can-”

“Ryan.” Brendon said softly. “We’re past the part where you preface everything with an apology.” Things were too complicated to begin with apologies. They had to just start each sentence with the trust that it would be forgiven. The first sentences in years and they were already asking for so much—everything Brendon was willing to give without a second thought.

“I’m just curious… I mean… _why_ \- no- I-” Ryan started hurriedly. He sighed and the mattress dipped near Brendon as Ryan rolled over to face his warmth. “I never used to scare you before.”

“I’m out of practice.” Brendon admitted, his posture still rigid beside Ryan, not trusting himself to be able to blend with Ryan like he used to; hands sliding around his waist, legs wrapping around his, foreheads touching as they settled on the same pillow.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ryan apologized, his hand finding Brendon’s chest in the dark without having to search. Ryan’s fingers twisted the fabric of Brendon’s shirt lightly as he continued to mutter. “I’ve been gone so long. I must not be the normal anymore, right?” Ryan laughed sadly, his fingers curling into his hand.

“Not exactly.” Brendon said quietly. “I’m not really used to anyone anymore.”

Ryan considered Brendon’s sentence for a moment, his fingers relaxing against Brendon’s chest again. “No one?”

“Do you want to rub it in?”

“No! No!” Ryan cried, the mattress dipping further as Ryan pulled himself over to Brendon. He could feel Ryan’s arm resting against the side of his own as Ryan’s hand still rested on his chest, another sharp dip by Brendon’s shoulder telling Brendon where Ryan’s elbow was resting on the bed. His voice hovered over him, Brendon turning to the side to try and capture as much as he could, like a flower facing the sun. “I want to understand. I don’t want to assume anything.”

“I think you have the basic idea, Ryan.” Brendon grumbled, unable to turn away from Ryan in the darkness. “No one. In four years.”

“Why? Brendon, I-I completely broke your heart. I was such a _dick_. I-” He stopped, his apology already having been stated earlier in the evening. “Just, tell me why. You didn’t have-”

“You think I did it to be _noble_ or something? To wait for you? You think I planned that?” Brendon asked angrily, shame warming his cheeks and tightening his throat. “I already told you what happened.”

“No, you didn’t.” Ryan argued, wanting full stories and details. He just wanted to see the Brendon that he missed, but it felt like he was asking to see all Brendon’s mistakes, all his follies, just so he could revel in his misfortunes. “Why?”

“Like I said, I forgot.” Brendon echoed himself, having told Ryan only half the truth after that sentence before. At that time, he was driving, Brendon knowing he could evade the subject after approaching it, but now they were only together with their words, their words entangling before their bodies did the same. “I forgot how to do things without you. Like sleep. And once I learned to do it on my own, I didn’t want a single person to try and make me forget again.”

“Brendon, why punish yourself-”

“Don’t make it sound like it was voluntary.” Brendon retorted, suddenly shifting in bed and turning to rest on his elbows, hoping to be equal with Ryan’s face. “I wanted to change. I wanted to leave that shell I was growing into, but I couldn’t. I suddenly felt confused and abandoned and I _lost it_ , Ryan. My mind, my energy, my confidence- I stayed in my bed, waking up to an empty side and paralyzing fear every day for eight months. Eight. Spencer had to drag me out of bed every other day to shower. He had to _fight me_. He had to hold me up and make sure I moved, I stretched, I ate, I bathed, I had sunlight, I wasn’t slowly killing myself- _I didn’t do that_. I-”

“Stop.” Ryan said quietly, his voice wavering. “Stop, please. I-I don’t want to picture it.”

“ _You_ don’t?” Brendon snapped. “Make you feel guilty?”

“No, it hurts me.” Ryan cried, the hand that still gripped his shirt rising to find his face and brush a thumb over his cheek. “Even back then, you were _my_ boy… And now, with you here again, I-I don’t want to picture it. I don’t want to think about you like that- I don’t want you to think about it.” Ryan sighed. “I love you.”

“Well that’s what happens when you don’t stop loving someone for four years straight.” Brendon replied with less sharpness, but just as much honesty. “When they take it from you, what do you have left? What haven’t you given? What’s left to call your own?” Even Brendon’s bedroom was half Ryan’s; every corner of the room painted with a memory; a smile, a glance, a touch. Everything reminded him of Ryan; the other half of the bed wasn’t just more room for Brendon to lay across, it became the place Ryan _wasn’t_. It became a void. For eight months, he could only stay on the right side of the bed. He didn’t want to notice how he was on the right, even then, after years without practice.

“At the time, I’m not sure what I would have done, but I wish you would have called me, Brendon.” Ryan whispered, his thumb still brushing his cheek. “I probably still would have been scared, but at least I would have known what the _fuck_ I was doing… I had no idea. I thought if I called it would make it worse.”

“Well, we can’t change that now.” Brendon dismissed, pushing Ryan’s hand away and placing it back on the mattress. Brendon slowly eased himself back down in the pillows. “What’s lost is lost.”

“But that was only time. You still have me.” Ryan reached out for Brendon again, this time his hand falling from the space Brendon was and fumbling around to find him again. His hand landed with a thump on Brendon’s chest, surprising the both of them. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t see you.” He never had to before.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep then.” Brendon said rolling over, Ryan’s hand sliding off his body. “Not talk about this anymore.”

“But, I want to know.” Ryan spoke louder suddenly, like Brendon was walking away from him. Like they were separating again. “Brendon, I have to know what happened.” His hand rested on Brendon’s arm, tugging on it gently, trying to get Brendon to lie on his back again. “Baby, please.”

“Why do you care? You said you didn’t want to picture it.” Brendon reminded him, pulling his shoulders forward and hunching them. He closed his eyes as if it would make him disappear in the darkness, hoping Ryan wouldn’t keep pulling.

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you should bury it.” Ryan begged, pulling on Brendon’s arm firmly. “I can’t tell you not to feel something.”

“You might want to reconsider your previous actions then.” Brendon said finally, letting Ryan roll him over. He flopped down, his head lolling to the side, hoping a stray streak of moonlight would come in and show him where Ryan was. He couldn’t feel him on the mattress near him anymore, the dips lifting and Brendon feeling like he was alone again. In the darkness, his brain could torture him with the thought that there wasn’t anyone beside him, he was all alone again, having forgot how to do it all over again.

Thankfully, the lamp came back on, casting warm light and shadows over the room. Ryan was back on Brendon’s left side, sitting up and staring over at him with a frozen expression, grim and scared and unsure what words to muster to clear the path between their two bodies. Ryan seemed acres away and Brendon was unable to move.

“Brendon, can I ask you something?” Ryan wanted permission every time he spoke. All that trust and he still didn’t think Brendon trusted _him_. “And I want you to be honest with me.”

“Shoot.” Brendon sighed, settling his head against the pillow, looking back up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay now?”

Brendon knew he had gotten better since Ryan initially left. He no longer wasted days lying half dead in his bed, covers pulled up over his head so he couldn’t see the sunlight pouring through his blinds, couldn’t tell what time of day it was, couldn’t tell how long it had been. Brendon tried to evade time, hoping that if he hid long enough, it would stop. Time itself would disappear. Time was the one thing driving itself between him and Ryan. Time was the only thing that made the anchor sinking Brendon heavier; the longer he stayed at the bottom of the ocean, reaching for his own gasps of breath to try and breech the surface, the farther he sank, the sea floor lowering beneath him. Time made Ryan’s figure at the top of the ocean fade away, the rippling waves scattering his image. But time never did stop, Brendon just started to move with it, trying to catch up as much as he could. Life was still blowing past him, but still somehow bringing him to Ryan. He was still scared that every time the light came back on, he’d find that he was just as alone as he felt in the dark. In the light, you could see that Brendon had gained all his weight back and looked lively, but in the dark he couldn’t hide behind anything. In the dark, he could give himself over to the twisting and side-sucking fear he felt inside him the same way he used to give into the pair of soft and careful hands tracing his body. The dark held too many secrets to truly know who he was in the light. Brendon had gotten better, but he wasn’t sure how immune he had become.

“I’m better.” Brendon chose his words slowly. He twisted the end hem of the blanket sitting on his chest, giving his eyes somewhere to rest; Ryan’s face wasn’t an option.

“Brendon.” Ryan said sternly, although his voice seemed to wobble. “Please don’t lie to me.” Ryan inched closer to Brendon, his hand resting on his arm, turning back time again. “I love you.”

“I’m not lying. I didn’t say I was fine. I said I was better. I’m still getting through it.” Brendon assured Ryan, his eyes darting from his hands to his face quickly. Brendon’s only sense of closure was finally seeing Ryan again, but that was also the beginning. He closed one chapter of his life off after having blank pages for four years, only to start a whole new book, soaking the pages in ink immediately. “I just need some time to learn how to do this again.” Nothing Brendon felt had changed, but he knew he couldn’t jump back into the water without a moment to breathe; he’d only drown again.

“Okay. I can give you that time.” Ryan was promising as much time and distance apart as Brendon wanted, letting him be in control, but Brendon didn’t want any. He didn’t want to be away from Ryan, he just wanted the water to stop rising and his entire body to stop shaking. “No, please don’t do that.” Ryan pulled himself up to Brendon’s side, his warmth ghosting against Brendon’s arm.

The hesitation was the same as the first time they found themselves in this position; Brendon lying with a fire in his chest, timid eyes, and bones that quivered from the uncontrollable electricity pulsing through them, all from the body daring to come close enough and touch him. But that time, Brendon was shaking for a far different reason. This time, the electricity was now the one in control, surging and shocking Brendon as Ryan placed his hand on his chest, trying to soothe him. With the current, Brendon felt his heart stop, just like before, everything cementing in his eyes and time as he seized, his hand grabbing onto Ryan’s quickly. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull it off or hold it closer. He never knew with Ryan. He could be dying, suffocating, his heart at a complete stand still, and he’d never let go. He’d sink to the bottom of the ocean, but still search for Ryan’s reflection at the surface. It was instinct. It was survival.

“I’m fine.” Brendon managed after his first heartbeat.

“Okay.” Ryan muttered softly, reaching another hand up to pet down Brendon’s hair. His fingers tracing the same lines they made when Ryan would try to ease Brendon down as he came apart in his own arms. The way he would smile at Brendon like he was new to his eyes, something unseen by the world except for in that moment, in their bed. “Just, promise me if you’re not okay, you’ll tell me. Okay?”

“Okay.” Brendon complied with a sigh, suddenly feeling every memory fade. The water drained and left him sprawled out, gasping for breath, suddenly seeing Ryan clearly for the first time in years.  He wasn’t living in a distorted memory or begging his brain to warm his chest and twist his stomach in just the right way. Ryan was there. He had come back.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep, Brendon? You should get some more sleep, baby.” Ryan didn’t lift a hand but instead settled himself on Brendon’s pillow, entering his space and knowing it was his.

“Ryan,” Brendon breathed, feeling himself slowly breaking apart, all his pieces Ryan’s to reassemble. Ryan’s nose nudged Brendon’s shoulder, urging Brendon’s to continue. “Don’t let go.” Ryan’s hands froze, stopping in Brendon’s hair and lying limply on his chest. The electricity turned to static, buzzing inside him as Ryan didn’t move, Brendon’s words hanging above them. Ryan’s cheek rested against his shoulder, sighing shakily.

The wait was another four years, the time dragging by, leaving Brendon to fall into himself, his own request striking fear into him. He had gotten everything, lungs empty and sputtering with his first breaths, and Brendon had decided to swallow more water instead of his pride.

Eventually, Ryan’s body moved against Brendon’s, his arms sliding over Brendon’s waist and making the loneliness uncoil from around him. “I can’t.”


End file.
